


The Dumb One

by I_am_a_Ruin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm Done Tagging Now, Keith tries to be a good friend, LOTS OF LANGST, Lance can't fake it till he makes it, Like... nothing major just... it'd make more sense, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sort of season seven spoilers, Thanks for coming to my tedtalk, all the characters have a purpose, cuz this is my cope with the new season piece, dealing with hurt feelings by talking, healthy friendships, if you've seen season seven, no one is better or less important, okay now i'm done, the klance is super minor and like the last line, the rest is just close friend stuff, to deal with the knocks to him, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin
Summary: Lance can take a lot, but when all of his insecurities are hit in a short period of time, he struggles to hold it in. Conversations happen





	The Dumb One

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY! So here's some beginning stuff. I enjoyed season seven a lot. It had it's issues but honestly I love the cast and the writers and respect them too much to turn on them now. If you are coming here to rant, please go somewhere else, I'm not interested in hate. We all got too much drama for this. Plenty of other authors on this site would probably love to talk about it with you. I'm not your gal. Thank you for understanding. I just like writing about things I care about :)  
> I'm also really chill with having my own headcanons and following those and just in general ignoring things that have been implied because this is how I see things. I respect the writers and their show, but this is my interpretation.  
> ANYWAYS: so in season seven, Lance was getting some flak (which I know y'all Lance stans are pissy about. Personally I just see it as fuel for Langst) so here's my using the creative energy and emotions I was gifted this season all bundled up into a half vent/half response fic. Hope you guys enjoy!

He was used to playful knocks to his self-esteem. It was typical of their friend group. They just fondly insulted each other. Sometimes someone took it too far. And sure, the “grown-up” thing to do would be to talk to the person about it, establish a boundary line, but no one ever did. So of course Lance didn't either. They didn’t need to see that side of him. He liked their perspective on him. It was a nice change from back home. 

He couldn’t go back to being the coddled, crippled-by-anxiety child. He was useful. He was confident and proud and maybe he lost some respect with his obnoxious personality, but… it was worth it. It made him happy. And really thought the others could see that he had some intelligence behind his antics. He had done well enough to get into the Garrison. He’d done well enough to keep up with his friends’ brilliance.

He was wrong. 

Their words kept cycloning around his head, tearing him up inside. His hands shook, barely able to keep hold on his face wash. What was the point. He wasn’t even  _ attractive _ apparently. He hadn’t taken Pidge’s words to heart earlier but with every added wound, his self-assuredness spiralled. He had to fight hard for his confidence and he wasn’t strong enough for this. 

He wasn’t smart enough for this.

He was the dumb one, after all. Useless. Pointless. They’d be better off without him. 

Even Keith thought so. Keith who Lance respected so much, Keith who Lance used to want to _be,_ Keith who Lance had thought he was really growing close to and could trust… Keith didn’t want him around. Even said if they were all stuck on an island and could only save one person… He’d vote Lance off because he couldn’t stand to be around him. Even after Lance had poured his heart out unwittingly about how highly he thought of one of his closest friends.

He was taking it hard. 

The bottle slipped from his grasp and Lance could feel his chest tightening. He slammed his palms down on the bathroom counter trying to pull himself together. He was not going to cry. At the very least he’d keep them from getting dragged into his mess. No one needed to know he hurt. If they truly thought of him so poorly, he could keep up his ignorant, happy-go-lucky persona for them and not have to make living with him all the more exhausting. And if he was honest with himself, not have to face the painful sting of discovering they wouldn’t care enough to help if they found out he was hurting.

The pulsing in his hands helped ground him. He shook them out a little while trying to settle his breathing. He was still jittery and edging closer to a panic attack he was staving off with all his might before he just slumped forward. He was so fucking tired. The energy from his anxious racing thoughts just… flooded out of him, leaving him empty and drained.

He barely stumbled into his bed, too exhausted to acknowledge Hunk’s good night. It took awhile for his brain to settle down for sleep, but he just lay still and waited for the gentle engulfing embrace of unconsciousness.

***

The next day wasn’t much better. He hadn’t realized it until halfway through his first class when he hardly had energy to keep his eyes open, much less pay attention to the lecture, but he was hitting a depressive episode like a semi at full speed. Pidge and Hunk made some passing comments about how shitty he was looking. He could only imagine.

Fuck, if they thought he was cute in a “hideous and terrifying” way before…. They weren’t remotely prepared for him without a full skin routine. He had it for several reasons. His skin was too oily on its own, so his face was covered that. But that dried his skin out like the Sahara. So he also needed a specific brand of moisturizer in the mornings before he blended in his concealer. This also gave him confidence. And confidence was supposed to be attractive. 

He just sank lower into his pit. And he was too tired to crawl out on his own. All his energy reserves were focused on just keeping from having a breakdown. Just go through the day. Be quiet for once, the others will love it.

And they did. Everyone was in high spirits never before reached during lunch. At least not by  _ everyone at once.  _ Well, maybe minus Lance. But that was the point. It was like they were able to thrive in happiness in the absence of his. Maybe he was doing them a favor. What would it be like if he wasn’t there at all? They seemed to be faring well without his contribution in the conversations. 

He picked absently at his food, stomach turning at the thought of eating. He wanted to just curl up in a warm bed and never get up. He didn’t have an appetite whatsoever. Eating seemed mostly like a waste of time, honestly. Nothing sounded remotely appealing even if he had been hungry.

He could feel the buildup of his emotions pressing against the backs of his eyes, threatening to break his dam, and he blinked rapidly to hold it back. He mumbled a soft “excuse me” he doubted anyone heard and went to dump his tray. 

Lance didn’t walk very long. He might have, just wandering aimlessly enjoying the outside and the bite of the mid-October air, but he was interrupted by Keith. 

Keith had chased after him and then just fell into his stride. They only walked for about a minute before Lance dug in a heel and pivoted to glare half-heartedly at Keith. Keith took a step back, expression neutral. Lance maybe might have considered smacking him if he even had a little bit of a spark left to fuel anger. 

“What do you want, Keith?” he huffed out, rubbing a hand down his face.

Keith’s brows furrowed. “For you to stop moping and just tell me what’s up already.”

“I’m not moping. Everything’s dandy! I’m peachy.” Lance snorted, forcing a smile so fake it made his face hurt. The enthusiasm he was pouring into his facial expression made him want to collapse. God, he was so  _ tired.  _

Keith rolled his eyes with a hard frown. “Lance, come on. All this fake stuff is a terrible look on you. We want happy Lance back. Clearly you need to talk, so go ahead.”

Lance bit his tongue, that warm, tight feeling filling his chest again. His breathing was going all funky. Fuck, no. He refused to cry. Especially not in front of Keith. What did Keith know anyways? Lance faked happy  _ a whole fucking lot.  _ It’d never been a problem before. What Lance needed was sleep, then everyone would buy his facade, they could go back to their normal dynamic, and Lance would be put on the back burning. Again. Mostly ignored except for that easy burn, low blow, cutting remark. He’d keep getting his hopes up when they said his name, praying just once they’d notice his progress. How much he’d grown and improved. How he was thriving.

They never did.

“Dude. I’m just tired. This kind of beautiful needs at least nine hours of sleep. I’ll be fine. You can stop bothering. I’ll head back to the dorms and get some beauty sleep and you all can be brilliant and beautiful and forget…” He choked off, feeling bitterness creeping into his tone, “Come up with those world-saving ideas.”

“What are you even talking about, Lance?” Keith’s arms were crossed.

Lance really just wanted to cry. But even he was stronger than that. “Told you, I’m tired. Besides, nothing I ever say makes sense anyways. That’s why I’m known as the dumb one.” 

He chuckled, giving Keith some finger guns to sell the ‘I’m a good sport who can take a joke and obviously has a super thick skin’ act. Keith’s brows raised up, eyes widening. 

“Lance…No one-” Keith started, voice going all soft. And Lance just lost it.

He started laughing, cutting his friend off. “No one thinks that? Really. Oh come on, everyone clearly thinks there’s nothing more to me. I’m just the obnoxious, not-so-pretty, overconfident, shallow, happy-go-lucky moron. I don’t have depth. I’m like… like the group’s mascot, right? I keep up morale. Pidge’s the brains, Hunk’s the glue, Shiro is the sane, responsible adult, and you are the crazy brave one that protects all of us, challenges everyone to be better. What’s my purpose? I’m like… I’m the jester. I get it. We all have our place. It’s not like I work super hard to live up to all of you. It’s not like I just want for  _ once _ be noticed beyond my failures dragging everyone else down… I’m tired, Keith. I… I’m so fucking tired. I can’t  _ breathe  _ anymore. There’s all this pressure to be happy all the goddamn time and… I can’t take it. I can’t… I can’t, oh God. I just…” Lance shook his head hard, breathing ragged as his eyes burned painfully. He couldn’t even see Keith anymore and wouldn’t be able to meet the boy’s eyes even if he could. 

He stumbled forward, body giving up on him as panic took over the controls. His hands clenched into fists around the solid object keeping him upright. His fingers clamped around Keith’s arms and he couldn’t release the hold as his head fell against Keith’s chest. 

He was full on ugly sobbing and it was only fueling his gaspy, staggered hyperventilating state. Lance was a mess he never meant for anyone to have to deal with ever again. But he lost his control he fought so hard for. And it felt so far out of reach. Hopefully Keith would just leave him here and pretend it never happened. Let Lance panic and mortify himself in front of countless strangers until he just died of embarrassment or something. Or his heart exploded. It felt right on it’s way to doing that. 

He just kept hearing their thoughts in his head. Annoying, dumb, ugly, useless. And they were all right. That’s what hurt the most. He could work as hard as he wanted, ignore how he had nothing to feel confident about all he wanted, he’d never be anywhere close to the natural talent of his friends. They had solid futures. His job would always be cheering them on backstage. Where no one could hear him. Including them.

But Keith didn’t leave him. Arms were wrapping around him, hesitant, but there. Pressure was slowly applied and Lance threw himself around his friend, holding on for dear life. The embrace became an almost painful grip. It was stabilizing. Lance felt the tension release inside him, tension he hadn’t been aware was there. It wasn’t all at once. It just slowly seeped out of him, like steam rolling off a hot beverage. A chill ran up his back, followed by the creep of warmth all over. His relaxed into the hug and Keith followed suit, arms becoming a loose loop around him.

He knew this must be making Keith so uncomfortable, and later he would beat himself up for putting his friend through this when it was specifically his job to be happy, not be cheered up. However, in the moment, he couldn’t bear to pull away. 

Eventually, he had to. It was just growing too awkward as his sobs settled into those gross little sniffling hiccups. He distanced himself and made a vain attempt to wipe his damp face off with the sleeves of his shirt. 

“Lance, no one expects you to be happy all the time. You have to talk to us. You can’t just keep everything you’re feeling bottled up like that.” Keith sighed. Lance could tell he was trying and it was sweet but he really had a hard time believing Keith genuinely cared. It was probably just the social expectation of politeness backed up by pity. God he hated pity. 

Lance nodded, holding back a comment about Keith’s hypocrisy because that boy bottled his emotions like a tea kettle waiting for the opportune time to boil over and scald everything in its way. “Yeah, of course. Sorry for going off on you like that. Just felt a little overwhelmed. I’m really not usually like that. I’m okay now.”

Keith shot him a withering look. “Lance. Come on. Cut the bullshit. I just told you. You don’t have to be happy all the time. You’re going to burn yourself out. You can’t be there for everyone all the time and not expect the same from us in return. I’m your friend, you can trust me.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Look, I don’t need your pity,” He didn’t know where the sudden wave of anger was coming from but it crashed over him, cresting right into Keith with burning acid in his tone. “I know you’d really rather I wasn’t around, okay. I know I’m annoying and the easiest to push out of the group.”

“Lance, you think… Fuck.  _ No.  _ I,” Keith rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, pulling at the ends of his dark hair, “I’m just… crap at emotions. Everyone was getting all sappy and serious and… I didn’t know how to… express all of how I felt about you guys. So I took a cheap shot out of frustration. I’m so sorry. Please… forgive me. I shouldn’t have said it and I definitely didn’t mean it. None of us think that. I had real reasons… and it wasn’t not wanting you around. I… I just…” 

Lance frowned, feeling guilt for wanting Keith to explain himself so badly, but he just waited. His whole body felt like it was physically aching for just some kind of acknowledgement, something real. Meaningful. And he was probably putting too much on Keith looking for that but Keith was here and trying and he couldn’t help himself. If he was going to buy any kind of kind words, it’d be from Keith. Someone who didn’t say things like that lightly, not even out of pity. He was straightforward and fairly honest. 

“You’re… you good at reading situations. Way better than I am. You can help people. All the others… they’d be able to build something or whatever and benefit the world from the island. They’d do okay with just the little group, isolation. But you thrive on company, and get information from interactions the rest of us can’t pick up on because we’re all pretty much either socially inept or introverted. You’d do best out in the world. And I admire you for that. Okay, can I stop saying words now because this really isn’t my area and uh… I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to accidentally make this worse, but I mean… I mean it. Lance?”

Lance just stood there, staring, jaw hanging just slightly in shock. Keith was… proud of him? He hadn’t even thought about those things before. He supposed it was true he was good at picking up on social clues, knowing when someone was upset or frustrated. And in general, decent at helping. 

“Yeah… you’re good buddy. Uh, thank you. I didn’t realize… you… You’re really proud of me?” Lance asked, just to be sure, heart beating too hard just so scared that he was still going to hear something different. Some kind of “yeah sure whatever.”

“Of course I am.” Keith said emphatically. And Lance really wanted to hug him again, and impulse that forced him one step forward. He could see Keith trying frantically to figure out what was expected now and drowning in this situation.

He smiled a little. He could do this, he could reach out, make this easier like Keith had done for him. “Can I… Um, you don’t have to if you don’t want to obviously, but um. Could I have another, really quick, hug possibly?”

Keith gave him this soft, almost grateful look at being given some kind of direction. “Yes, of course.”

Lance lunged at him, unable to hold himself back anymore. The comfort of the embrace was so nice, he could have honestly cried again, but refrained. 

As Lance pulled away, this time with the intention of walking to the cafe the group usually met at to work on homework after lunch, Keith stopped him, “And Lance?”

Lance looked back at him over his shoulder, pausing midstep. “Yeah?”

“You’re a little more than not-so-pretty, Sharpshooter.”

Lance’s face warmed and he turned around, trying to process that comment, filing it away for later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Sorry about the ending and if it's crappy or incoherent. It's 2am and... you guys seem to like my unedited drowsy writing so here you go I guess. I'm emotionally drained. This season was rough and I got a ton of life stuff happening.  
> A few last notes, I really want to express that one well worded argument is not going to fix someone's insecurities or make them all better. Honestly, it's probably just going to be disregarded. Our heads are really good at telling us no one means compliments. Lance only takes this so well because of where he is at in life. This is... a relapse of sorts into depression. He has already made a lot of progress with his self esteem and being confident in himself. So it was easier for him to believe what people told him.  
> There's also a reason I toned down the klance. I haaaaate romance, flirting, and confessions being used during episodes like this when characters feel like Lance is. That's super unhealthy for both parties involved. Keith INTENTIONALLY gears his explanation more towards platonic because of this and doesn't flirt until Lance is feeling better. Please keep this in mind when writing your own stuff guys. Appropriating relationships started with a depressive episode cheered up because someone is in love with them is... just so wrong. Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.  
> I hope my message came across okay and I didn't do a trash job with what I wanted. Idk. let me know what you guys think in the comments! I'm going to sleep.


End file.
